


Kloktober, Oct. 27th: Favorite Dethklok Song

by Morpheus626



Series: Lee's Kloktober 2020 [27]
Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:07:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27237775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: Went with one of my fave songs (I can’t have only one favorite lol), ‘I Ejaculate Fire.’Synopsis: A mention of Charles/Pickles. The recording session for ‘I Ejaculate Fire’, and it’s hot!Really hot. Like too hot, in a bad way, and incidentally, has anyone called 911? Because they should really do that, before the session burns everyone out.TW: Arguing, and fire.
Relationships: Charles Foster Offdensen/Pickles the Drummer
Series: Lee's Kloktober 2020 [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948486
Kudos: 7





	Kloktober, Oct. 27th: Favorite Dethklok Song

“It’s good,” Charles beamed. “As if it would be anything else.” 

Dick nodded. “Might do a little-” 

Charles slapped his hand away from the mixing board. “It’s perfect!” 

“Who the fuck is producing here, you or me?” Dick scoffed. “Get the fuck away from my board!” 

“I don’t have to be a producer to know what sounds good,” Charles said sternly. 

“Oh jesus,” Dick grumbled. 

“What?” Charles asked, clearly miffed. “You’ve got something you want to say, so say it!” 

“Look, you’re the manager/CFO/baby-sitter, and I respect that-” Dick started.

“Uh...there’s a fire,” Nathan’s voice came in over the booth mic. 

“Yeah, one minute sweetheart,” Dick pressed the mic button and replied. “Anyway, like I was saying, I get it. You like having your hand in a lot of pies. But you do that, ya know what ya get?” 

“Dessert?” Charles asked sarcastically.

“Syphilis, because the pies are a metaphor,” Dick replied. “You’re just ramping up to a big old case of business syphilis, is what y-” 

“Oh god! Fire!” Pickles shouted over the mic. 

“Yes! We know, the name of the song, ‘I Ejaculate Fire’,” Dick slammed the mic button down. “Can you boys get to recording, or do you need your hands held? Because I’m already schooling one idiot, I don’t have time for five more!” 

“Idiot?!” Charles fumed. “I don’t know what the fuck is up your ass-” 

“More like which band member hasn’t been up yours-” 

“I’m with Pickles, and Pickles only, thank you,” Charles cut him off with a glare. “And even if I wasn’t, it would be none of your fucking business.” 

“My amps ams smokings!” Skwisgaar less said and more shrieked. 

“For fuck’s sake, how hard it is to record a song?!” Dick didn’t even look to hit the mic button. “GET IT DONE; I AM BUSY!” 

“I can’ts breathes,” Toki’s voice came weakly over the mic. 

“You fucksch are gonna let usch die?!” Murderface’s question was right on the end of Toki’s coughs. 

Charles sighed, then turned to look at the booth. “Fuck!” 

The booth was filled with black smoke, the only sign of the band being their hands slapping at the glass. 

Dick turned, then did a double take. “Oh! Oh, they meant real fire.” 

“Apparently!” Charles shouted as he ran to the booth door and yanked it open, ducking low as smoke flooded the rest of the studio. “Why didn’t you guys open the door?” 

“Oh yeah,” Pickles muttered as he crawled out of the booth. “Sorta forgot we could do that. Heh.” 

“...You all need a doctor,” Charles fussed. 

“We aren’t done yet!” Dick called over. 

“We are for now!” Charles called back as he helped Skwisgaar drag Toki out of the booth, and started compression-only CPR. “Don’t you dare change a thing about the current mix, it’s perfect!” 

Dick grumbled, and stomped out of the studio. 

“Is he going to get help?” Nathan coughed as he lay on the floor, trying to stay below the smoke.

“I don’t think so,” Charles replied. “Murderface, would you run, pull the fire alarm?” 

“Asch fire schafety officer, I would be pleasched to,” Murderface smirked, and reached up for the fire alarm.

The alarm blared, and Charles sighed as Klokateers flooded the studio, some with stretchers, others with fire extinguishers. 

The boys would be okay.

And so would the master tapes of what, to his mind, was one of the best songs they’d recorded. 


End file.
